


Ties That Bind

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:23:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: The Force links those who should be together. Whether those souls listen is up to them.





	1. Chapter 1

Kylo stares at the ceiling. It’s like it should be... until it isn’t.

The dull, clean metal gives way to dirty, grimy, battered. It’s familiar, too, but this is from memory and not from reality. Not... current reality.

“Did you have to take my old room?”

“I didn’t know it was your old room,” the voice not-next to him lies.

“You knew very well it was my old room.”

“I thought you weren’t ‘Ben’ any more... so?”

Kylo closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to see the same thing that the blasted Poe Dameron is looking at. Years ago, it had been reversed: he’d been the one sleeping aboard the _Millennium Falcon_ whilst Poe slept wherever Poe slept. 

The circularity of this is not lost on him. 

Kylo thinks about saying ‘I hate you’ to him, but it’s a tired line. Instead, he hears the hum of an engine he knows too well over the top of the one here. It’s slightly different (there’s some fine tuning needed, which he’s sure Poe will also know), but it’s still the same bird. 

Poe is lying alongside him on the bed, whilst they also both lie on B—on Kylo’s old bed, from another life. Focussing when two lives overlap is not easy, but it’s his own fault for not dismissing their connection. But in his defence, neither has Poe.

He should have done it years ago, really. You can do that. You can decide to turn away your soul-mate. The one person who is supposed to ‘fit’ with you. Not necessarily agree with you, or be like you, but... supposed to ‘work’ for you. Be what you _truly_ need and want. 

You can ignore them, dismiss them. You can even find someone else, if you want to. Someone you think you know will work better for you than your soulmate...

...but, once you do, that’s it. Once you send them away, they’re gone. And you’re basically admitting to them, and to the world, that you aren’t able to take what’s right for you. That you can’t accept the one person who you _should_ be with, for whatever reason. Either you hate your own happiness too much, or else you can’t let someone that close to you. 

And Poe hasn’t given up, either. 

“I think it’s the secondary—“

“Yes,” Kylo says, to stop him keep talking about it.

“Okay.”

“I’m not here to fix your ship.”

“No. You wanted to see where we are, so you can come blow us up some more?”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

“So?”

“You’re not blaming this on _me_.”

“I think that’s precisely what I’m doing.” Poe rolls over, the sound as if he’s really there, though Kylo knows there won’t be any sign of his presence touching the bed. 

That sun-warm face looking at him, here on his bed. Kylo is undressed under the sheets, but Poe has seen much worse, over the years. He refuses to make eye-contact with him. 

“Ky... you killed my friends. My _squad_. You killed—“

“Have you forgotten the part where I’m supposedly the _villain_?” Kylo retorts, sharply. “Your enemy.”

“I was vibrantly aware of that when you aimed cannons on us.”

“And when you destroyed our _Dreadnaught_?”

“You started it.”

And now Poe sounds like a child again. Kylo pinches the bridge of his nose, and exhales sharply.  Back to the same old retorts as ever. Is he his soul mate because he’s—

“Ben,” Poe pleads. “Can we at least _talk_ about this?”

“Why? Talking never does us any good. You blame me, I blame you, and all we do is argue.”

“You obviously _want_ to talk or I wouldn’t _be_ here.”

“Unless the Force fucked up when it thought we were supposed to be together.” Which. Maybe it did. Sometimes even soulmates weren’t meant to be together. Even those who were ‘ideal’ for one another... didn’t last. 

“If that’s the case, you could always tell me to never come back again. And _mean_ it.”

Kylo forces his eyes shut, and tries to focus only on the room at hand. Tries to forget the other ship, and the other person. Tries to tune in on the real, the physical, the visceral. He pushes his fingernails into his palms, and he breathes. 

_It is not like being a Jedi. It is not like Luke Skywalker’s old lessons. It is not like the Supreme Leader’s old lessons. It is like – it is like – being free._

“You could just ask me, you know,” Poe’s voice says, sadly, as he leaves.

And Kylo remains in this room, this ship, this life... alone.

***

He wonders how many people here know, or suspect, that the so-called love of his life is their mortal, sworn enemy. One person does, for sure: General Leia Organa.

She’s known for years, of course. And part of Poe has to suspect that all this keeping him out of the ‘loop’ has been because they fear he’s going to somehow spread the word to Kylo and the First Order. Wonders if they thought the ‘trace’ on them was his connection, wonders if his impulsive behaviour has somehow been tagged as a side-effect of his bond with Leia’s wayward son.

If so, they should go whole hog and just remove his clearance and rank and assistance entirely.

Oh wait, they can’t. He’s the best and most daring pilot they have.

(Not saying much, there’s so few of them now that they have only as many people to climb in the cockpit as most species have limbs. And even _less_ ships than that.)

Maybe they also want him for what intel he can get on the First Order, but no one ever explicitly asks him for it. It’s all sideways glances and furtive foot-shuffles. If they _trusted_ him then maybe they wouldn’t have—

It’s banthashit. It is. Poe hates that he’s in this position, stuck between two things, pulled constantly at his seams. He’d thought... he’d thought, once, how wonderful it was to be bound to someone as vibrant, strong, and important as Ben Organa-Solo.

Back when he’d been Ben.

Does it still count as the same person when you’re—

“Poe.”

She only calls him that when it’s not official, not work, not... 

“General.”

She doesn’t correct him. Either she likes the title, she respects his choice, or... who knows. He’s still smarting from earlier, and he’s not feeling all that much like calling her _almost-mom_. 

The very slightest of headtilts summons him, and he considers resisting for a moment, before he goes over. Like he could ever disobey her for _long_. 

Poe sits behind the Dejarik table. He’s been on the _Falcon_ only a little in his life, and now... now they’ve moved into it. 

Which would be cool if not for the fact that they’re living on it _because it is the very last ship the Resistance owns_. That part sours it, even if a tiny voice speaks up that once it was only three Humans, a Wookie, and two droids with this ship, and they brought down the Empire.

But back then, the Rebellion was somewhere to fly _to_ , and now they are it.

“You know I... don’t like to speak to you about... your connection.”

No, she doesn’t. It’s also kind of considered poor taste, but then how many times does someone’s distant soulmate happen to be a mortal enemy who is regularly trying to kill you and everyone you love? That kind of gives her a ‘get out of jail free’ card. 

“And I appreciate that,” he says, waiting for the ‘but’ that is sure to follow.

“I need... I need my son back, Poe.”

“Don’t you think I’ve spent the last decade or so trying just that?”

What, like he hasn’t tried before? Like he’s just... given up and only visits him to sneer? Poe sucks on his teeth in frustration. 

“I know you have. Believe it or not, so have I.”

Oh, yeah. Force-thing. The Force chooses to connect those who are supposed to be together, but also the more sensitive amongst sentient races get to use it for other reasons, too. 

Not that he’s angry or possessive or jealous that Kylo gets to talk to others, or others get to talk to him. No.

“So what is it you’re asking me, exactly?”

Because if she can talk to Kylo herself, why bother approaching _him_?

“I don’t know. Poe, I... I just lost my husband, and my brother. I lost almost every friend I ever had...”

“You lost Alderaan, and you kept fighting.”

He meant that to sound reassuring, but he realises from the pained lines around her eyes... it isn’t. Reminding her of her adoptive parents’ death? Her whole culture and way of life? 

“I’ve lost too much.”

“You don’t want to lose him.” It’s obvious, but she needs to know he understands. “I’m... trying, General. But he locks me out.”

“Not all the time.”

“No.”

“Then... there’s still hope.” 

She says it as a statement, but he knows it is a question. She needs the reassurance, right now. Needs to know... so he reaches over, and lays his hand on the back of hers. “There’s still hope. I haven’t given up on him just yet.”

“I didn’t give up on Han, either,” she replies with a wry smirk. 

“But you didn’t see him... before?”

“I did. But it was in passing. I realised I’d seen his face in crowds, but he wasn’t ready to look for me, properly.”

Which is unusual in and of itself. Normally soul-bonds were so vibrant as to be impossible to ignore, but then... she’d been married to the cause, and he’d been married to his freedom. Poe had watched as Han Solo left Leia’s life, and it had crushed him to know that two people who loved one another so desperately could _bear_ to be apart.

But they had.

And he’d... broken inside, just a little, at the thought that Kylo might never come back.

How long do I wait? He wants to ask, but it’s rude. A life spent waiting, wondering if death would take one of them before it came to any resolution. Poe sometimes thinks his recklessness is in part due to a subconscious desire to shock Kylo into coming ‘home’, but... that would be to deny just how much he also loves the danger, the risk. 

On Jakku, he’d thought at last, at long last...

...but Kylo had acted like they didn’t know one another at all. 

What is he supposed to do if the man he’s supposed to love hates him?

What does it say about Poe, too?

“I’ll keep fighting,” he promises. 

A hand on his cheek, squeezing where last it slapped. “I know you will.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ben is not allowed a lightsaber. This makes sense in an Adult and Logical way, but in the other sense... it does not. He’s pretty sure baby Jedi got to have them, and although he isn’t either (he is **five and three quarters** ), he still thinks he should have one. 

Running around with toys just isn’t as cool. He could be playing with some right now, but he’s always been more of the kind to disappear inside his own head, than to act things out. His little legs swing over the edge of the bench, his boots getting to the point of pinching his toes (again!), but not quite to being painful, yet. 

“Hey.”

Ben startles. He hadn’t heard – or sensed – the other approaching. When he looks up, he sees a boy who might be a few years older, wearing a battered pilot’s jacket that’s too big for him. His dark hair fusses around his bright face, and he looks like the kind of person you want to be friends with.

Most people do not want to be friends with Ben. They think it’s cool to start off with, but then it rapidly becomes clear they want to be friends with his Mom, Dad, or Uncle. So he normally does not bother even trying, because it’s better not to be disappointed.

“Hi,” he replies, and wonders how long his disaffected behaviour will take to send the other boy running.

“So. Uhm. We haven’t... met before?”

“...no?” Ben suddenly worries they have. He’s been introduced to so many people, so many sons and daughters of not-blood relatives and he can’t possibly remember _everyone_.

“Didn’t think so.” The boy rolls his weight around on his feet. He has too much energy, and it’s clear. The kind of energy that gets you into _trouble_. (The fun kind.) “I’m Poe.”

“Ben,” says Ben, and the whole ‘be frosty and he will leave’ thing has just been kicked out of the park by the question. Damn him. 

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“...what would you do if I said ‘yes’?”

“Not sit with you, duh.” Poe’s dark eyes roll. “Mom taught me manners.”

Okay, so Ben is fighting the urge to smile, now. He doesn’t answer, which isn’t saying yes, and isn’t saying _no_. It’s that tricksy way he’s learned from _all_ of his family, diplomats, Jedi, and smugglers alike. 

Only... Poe seems to catch on, and he arches a brow in a way that makes something happen that Ben isn’t... used to. “You haven’t said you mind...”

“I haven’t said I don’t.”

“The question kinda...” Poe lands beside him, only...

He keeps going, and lands on the ground. With his head sticking through the bench.

“ _WHAT IN THE KRIFF--?”_

The boy isn’t there, then, and Ben is on his feet and frantic. Where is he? Was he real? Did he hallucinate the whole thing?

He’s hyperventilating when he turns, and then there’s Poe. Sitting on his ass, on the grass, laughing up at him.

Except.

The bench is gone, and Poe is sitting near a young tree, his fingers pushed through green fronds. “I’m sorry. I kinda had to do that.”

Which is when it _twigs_. No pun intended. Ben walks over to the tree, fascinated, and passes his hand through it. “Huh.” It’s eerie.

“I didn’t expect to meet you this early.”

No, he wouldn’t. Force-bound soulmates normally turned up around puberty, not now. It wasn’t impossible, just unusual. Ben looks around at their surroundings. It’s a small garden out front of a little, warm-coloured house. A sizeable landing pad, and the detritus of a young child at home. At least one. He can’t work out from the toys if Poe is an only child or not. 

“This your home?”

“Yep,” Poe says, and pats the grass beside him. “You can sit down if you’re careful.”

“...how do I know how not to – to walk into things where I actually am?”

“If you can’t see them, just use your toes and hands to feel your way around.”

Ben tries to reach out with his other senses, pulling at the sights in front of him... he can kind of see his own, then, but the double-vision makes him a bit queasy, and he ends up sitting down promptly anyway. 

“Where do you live?” he asks, when he’s safely on his rump. 

“Hmm? Oh, Yavin IV.”

“Near the Jedi temple?”

“Pretty near. You can get there on a speeder bike. I’m not supposed to go out on my own, though... and I don’t know how I’d take you with me.”

“We only just met. I’m not going off with you to weird places.” Stranger danger and all.

“You wouldn’t really be _going_ , though... but yeah, I guess you’re right. Just ‘cause we’re bonded, you don’t know me really, do you?”

No, he doesn’t. Ben’s hands unclench from the worry he hadn’t known he’d been holding onto. “What do we do, now?”

“Well... they say you’re kinda... supposed to use it to get to know one another. Right?”

“But we’re supposed to be together.”

Poe shrugs. “Not everyone gets a match like us, and then – some people... don’t...?”

Why would you turn down someone made just for you, Ben wonders? It seems silly, but also a bit of him is angry that he doesn’t get to find him, and then relieved that he doesn’t run the risk of not, and then—

“Poe?”

They both look up, but it’s then that the connection breaks, and Ben is left alone.

***

He should tell them, he should. Ben listens to Threepio berate him for getting covered in _dirt_ again, and he wonders why he hasn’t already told Mom and Dad.

Oh, wait, he does know.

After a kiss on his head, Mom had continued to finish whatever work thing she was doing, and Dad had been too busy complaining about having to cook for anyone to really pay attention to him.

Even Chewie seems absorbed in something, so he makes his (polite) excuses and goes up to his room to think about his new secret.

People will want to ask him about his new ‘mate’, and Ben isn’t sure what he will say, yet. They only just met, and it was weird. Poe is all sorts of... bouncy, and loud, and happy, and things Ben wishes he was. He looks...

Well, he kinda looks like the cool kid. You know, the one in every class. Ben moves around a lot and much of his education comes from Threepio, or folks Mom gets in, but he still understands the concept of the Popular One.

Poe is the Popular One. He’s got that... charm, that ease, that confidence. Ben isn’t the Popular One. He’s the Weird One. 

Can a bond work one way? Someone be one person’s ultimate, but not... reciprocal? Will Poe get bored of him, when he finds out he’s not all adventures and magic like his family?

Ben presses the bones at the base of his thumbs into closed eyes, scrunching until he sees hyperspace. He isn’t even sure he’ll _like_ him. Maybe he will even try not to, because he’s that kind of a boy (gets it from both sides, his protocol-droid nanny regularly tells him). 

It’s just too much to handle when he’s still learning things like hyperspace-calc and galactic history (both ‘official’ and ‘unofficial’). He was supposed to get more _time_ before he had to think about icky _dating_ stuff. And what if he likes him now, but not later? Do you lose your mate? 

He rolls over onto his belly, and plants his face in the pillows in protest. It’s too much. He will deal with it later. 


	3. Chapter 3

There should be a book for this, or a manual, or something. ‘So You Just Effectively Took Over The Galaxy: What Next?’. It would likely sell wonderfully to anyone with any kind of aspirations. Maybe he should write it?

Hux has likely already started one, a personal development plan. Kylo is certain it would be dull reading... unless he could laugh at the stiltedness of it, or use it to keep himself safe from a second coup. 

A ‘rabid cur’, Snoke had called the General. Utterly insane with blood-lust and rage. Kylo is glad Hux doesn’t have the Force: if he did, his fury alone would make him nigh-on impossible to suppress. He’s in two minds about just slaughtering the man. If he did it in private, would everyone be convinced that challenging him was a bad idea? Or would they become dispirited and abandon their posts? If he did it in public, would they all try to shoot him, or would they kowtow?

There’s no obvious successor to Hux (thank the _Force_ ), so there’s no one ready to rise up and avenge him, but that also means there’s no one to _take over_ and do all the boring, officer-and-troop-and-organisational work. 

Which is another example of how cunning the man is. He’s made himself almost indispensible, which gives him extra work to do, keeping him overly busy. That’s the only possible saving grace, that he’s too occupied to stage his own attempt. Or that he’d live longer if someone else stuck their head over the parapet and pulled all the fire to him...

So. He’s in charge. He’s the ‘Supreme Leader’. Maybe not the title he would pick for himself, but ‘Emperor’ doesn’t work so well, either. He’s in charge of the dominant fleet, and the strongest power. There’s no organised democracy, only... taxation to fuel his flotilla. There’s no rule of law, just localised agreements.

It’s all chaos. People are still functioning, still buying, selling, working, eating, sleeping, fornicating. The worlds continue. He’s sure plenty of people woke up not knowing – or caring – that the Supreme Leader was dead. That Luke Skywalker was dead. They woke up, and continued their lives, never knowing or caring who was in total control.

Control.

What a joke. No one has really asked him about anything, no... matters of state to decide. There’s no judgements to impose, no policy to set. Unless he is on the bridge of the _Successor_ , barking out orders, no one looks to him for guidance. 

Snoke had never taught him how to do this. Likely because he never intended Kylo to cleave him in twain and seize his throne.

Kylo sighs, and slumps.

“You know, this wouldn’t be a problem if you—”

“Not helpful.”

“Don’t see anyone else here, offering you assistance.” Poe walks around the room, his feet making no real sound. “Although I could maybe try to ruin your war efforts. Maybe I should just sing off-key in your ear until you surrender and come home?”

“I would be appreciative if you would not.”

Poe has done that, before. Stood and sung his heart out. It had once been nice, but no longer. 

“So, is it all you thought it would be?”

“What do you think?”

“So, you wish you hadn’t?”

“Dameron. Why do you still come to see me?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m a glutton for punishment?”

Kylo brushes at the robes tumbling over his knee. He pulls and plucks at the seam, trying to get it to fall right. He’s well aware he’s trying to divert from the issue at hand. Why do they both keep up this charade? Neither one of them will ever change, so why do they torture themselves like this?

“How many of you are there even left?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna tell you that.”

“I could just come to see you and count.”

They don’t normally mention the espionage potential of their bond out loud, and Kylo is pleased to see the twisted, unhappy expression on the pilot’s face. He must have killed hundreds in the last parry, but they haven’t locked horns, since. The Resistance have been scurrying like wounded animals, and Kylo has the fleet ordered to track them down.

But it’s one ship. One very well _known_ ship, but just one ship. 

Maybe it’s back on Jakku.

“You know, now he’s gone... you don’t need to keep up this stupid—”

“No.”

“Why? Is this really what you want?”

“Yes,” he lies.

“Right.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Kylo hates that he says it, and hates how it sounds. It’s the petulant teenage voice, the terrible cry of an unruly, hormonally challenged young person. 

“So explain it to me?” Poe comes closer, and sits pretty much on the end of the dais. “Because I want to understand. I want to know why you’ve turned your back on your whole family?”

Family is off-limits. Even if Kylo pushed the spying part, it’s not fair that Poe brings up... that. 

“You don’t have the Force.”

“No, but I’m here, right now. Through the Force. And I’m here, and I’m not able to tell anyone else here what you tell me.”

Just because he’s his so-called soulmate... that doesn’t give him any rights to know what’s going on. But then – who else can he talk to? They used to share everything.

“What would be better, anyway?”

“Than destroying multiple planets? Taking out the Republic? Slaughtering freedom fighters? Murdering your father? B— _Kylo_ , what is going on?”

Kylo leaps to his feet, and storms past the apparition. He can’t _touch_ him, so all he can do is pace in frustration. “Han Solo had to die.”

“Why? And why the Hosnian system?”

“That wasn’t me.”

“No? You didn’t stop it happening.”

“And how was I supposed to do that?” 

“You found it pretty easy to take over when it suited you – why couldn’t you do it back then?”

“That... look, I... it wasn’t that easy. You think I could just turn around and kill Snoke whenever I wanted?”

“Don’t know. You don’t tell me anything any more.”

Right. “Well, I couldn’t kill them whenever I wanted. It wasn’t that easy. He had the power to reach across the galaxy with the Force – without a bond – and contact and affect people. He was not the kind of person you could just... lift a blaster and shoot.”

“Okay, so, now he’s dead, what’s stopping you from coming back?”

“The part where I’m an unrepentant monster?” That’s pretty much what Rey – and all his relatives – think of him, isn’t it?

“Okay, I don’t think you... I mean, you’ve done some pretty shitty stuff. Murdering almost everyone I care about being high up on that list. Killing Han. Torturing me—“

“You _shot_ me.”

“You killed Lor Sen Tekka!”

“He had the map!”

This is stupid. So stupid. Kylo wonders why Poe won’t just give up.

“Kylo... if you want to come home, folks aren’t gonna be too happy about it, some of them. Many of them. But there’s a lot of us who _would_. And we could... we could go off, somewhere, away from everyone...”

“You want me to elope with you?”

“...doesn’t have to be that. I mean... you wouldn’t need to... just think about it. You didn’t want to serve Snoke, and you didn’t want to blow up those planets – so you said – so why are you still there?”

“ _Because I’m evil_ ,” Kylo snaps, and presses his teeth sharply together, trying to push out with the air in his head, forcing it through his ears to increase the pressure. Tries to shove his tongue into his palate, to expel the pilot from his mind.

“You **idiot**. Just. Come with me.”

“Go _away_.”

“Come with me. Just... watch.”

Kylo feels the bond tug at him. Poe has no Force ability outside of their connection, but within it... he’s just as strong.

***

It’s risky, so very risky. Kylo knows he’s on the _Falcon_ , but he has no clue where they’re holed up. Any number of things could lead to them being uncovered, hunted down, and exterminated.

This is the kind of impulsive, feeling-first action that Leia keeps telling him is bad for the team.

Which... maybe she doesn’t like it in him because she feels that’s why she lost her son? Yeah, likely. He bites his lower lip in, repeats an inner mantra, and starts to walk.

Kylo is following, he’s sure. He can tell in the prickle down the back of his neck. He’s following, which is a good sign? Into the room where Leia sits quietly, stowed away in one of the more obscure ‘cargo’ locations on the ship.

She’s lying back against the bulkhead, her eyes closed. Poe knows from experience that you can’t call it ‘sleeping’, and that many an ensign has been caught short when finding her like this. It isn’t really meditation, either, but she’s fully aware of everything that’s going on. 

“General.”

“Commander.”

Her eyes remain shut, and he clips his heels together. 

“May I ask a personal question, ma’am?”

Her nose wrinkles, distaste or confusion, and she pauses before she nods. Poe wonders if she realises Kylo is watching her. How does it work for the non-bondsmate Force-users? 

“I want to know what you know... about Snoke.”

“Poe, don’t do this,” Kylo pleads. 

Poe can’t acknowledge him, in case she doesn’t know he’s here. 

“He’s dead, Poe.”

“I know he’s dead,” the commander reasons, “...but I need to understand. I only know what your son told me, and half the time I’m sure he was holding things back.”

Kylo doesn’t object any more, and Leia looks... old. She’s been looking increasingly worn for months, but today she looks like the galaxy bears down on her every breath. 

“He was... a figure of note, to the Republic, but they decided not to act on the intelligence in time. As you know, until their dying day, the Republic wouldn’t denounce him and the First Order as what they were: the Empire in all but name.”

“Why?”

“Because Snoke... was tricky. He changed the label so the laws didn’t seem to apply. He weasled his way around the edges of everything... and knew that the galaxy’s apathy and lack of appetite for another war would keep him safe.”

“Even when he was as dangerous as Palpatine?”

“Even then. Once people had let him get so far, they couldn’t bring themselves to admit they were wrong, or commit to the backlash and pain of a genuine war. They wouldn’t... _I_ wouldn’t listen. I knew he was bad news, but I... I should have seen this coming.”

“You weren’t there at the start of the Empire.” Why does she think it’s all her fault? 

“Oh, I was. I just didn’t know about it until I was much older. I was there at _the_ start.”

“Yeah, but you were a baby.” Okay. Not so helpful. “But... Ben?”

He can _feel_ the intake of air at the name. Kylo has screamed at him over it, but to Leia... and to the time they’re talking about? He _was_ Ben.

“I didn’t know the mess in his head was from Snoke, at first. I thought... he was just... I thought he was just troubled, because we never settled. I was busy, Han was busy, we... we loved one another very much, but we were not—”

“Calm?”

“That’s a diplomatic way of saying it,” she replies, with a little of her old twinkle. “We were hectic. A lot was happening. I had... experience of a solid family upbringing, but Han... Han was Han. He loved Ben with all his heart – we all did.”

“Didn’t mean it was enough.” Poe says the words, but he’s not sure if they’re Kylo’s or his own.

“No. We... tried. But we failed. I wanted so desperately to give my son the life my parents – my _real_ parents – had given me. But neither me, nor Luke – or obviously Han – had any experience bringing up a Force-sensitive child who knew they were. It was... difficult. And I didn’t do enough.”

“She couldn’t have done anything else,” Kylo says, sounding... beaten. “That’s the worst part of it. They all wanted to love me, wanted me to come out ‘right’.”

“So... what went wrong?” Poe almost doesn’t dare ask.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I could go back and fix it without killing that bastard who hurt my son before he got a chance to. I don’t know... I don’t know how to fight the Darkness in my son, because... it was Luke who faced Darth Vader, not me.”

“That’s why you sent him to train?”

“Luke is – _was_ – a Jedi.”

The correction hurts. Poe hadn’t known Luke, not really, but his loss had been hard on everyone. 

“I thought Luke stood the best chance of helping my boy. But it was relentless. A constant stream... whenever we spoke to him, he was deeper into the hate, into the anger... I can’t control my own temper, let alone someone else’s. Han is – _was_ – just as bad. I wanted to help him, but I didn’t know what to do.”

There’s tears lining her eyes, now, gleaming around the edges. He hates that he’s putting her through this, but it’s... helping. Helping him understand, maybe helping her heal, and hopefully helping Kylo.

“I think that’s enough,” comes the gruff, distant voice behind him.

Poe sits beside her, and offers a hand to cover those clasped on her knee. He curls his fingers around hers, and lifts his chin when she comes in to burrow into him. She’s no husband, no bother, no son. Most of her friends are dead. Who else can she turn to for comfort? 

“You did the best you could. Sure, you can look at it after and think ‘what if’, but you—”

“That’s _enough_ ,” Kylo rasps.

“...you love him. And you think he could come back. Even after Han?”

“I never saw Anakin turn, like Luke says he did, but I believe him. No one is ever _truly_ gone. It’s... it’s just hard when day by day he sinks deeper, and I don’t know how many of us are able to hold out. I don’t know if the Resistance will—”

Poe feels Kylo break the connection, and he holds the man’s mother. “I’m working on it.” 


	4. Chapter 4

“Flying is the best feeling in the galaxy,” Poe says, his hands sliding over the cockpit controls. 

Keeping level with him when he’s in flight is difficult, if Ben does it in ‘person’, but if he’s just listening to him and watching him, it’s easier to handle. It’s an odd mix of seeing him, and seeing _through_ him; using his eyes, his hands, to feel the world around him.

Of course, it’s also a huge potential for nausea. The first time Poe flew in atmosphere, the confusing sensory input made Ben run to the ‘fresher to throw up. These days it’s a bit better, especially if he gets some warning. If he’s not busy, Ben will often take the time to lie down, like now, so he can enjoy it more.

“Really? You haven’t felt everything,” Ben replies, coyly. 

“Well, chocolate icecream next to warm pudding is a close second.”

He’s such an asshole, isn’t he? Ben knows he knows what he meant. They’re both of an age where other... urges have started. Ben also knows Poe hasn’t indulged in those urges, other than self-love. Like himself. 

But even the confusing lust-echoes are difficult. Ben doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be feeling those urges, considering he’s a Jedi. And he’s also not ready for Poe to really be around them, even though he’s the prime motivator behind his masturbatory events.

Instead, Poe starts taking the small craft around through sheer manoeuvres, the S-Foils clipping her around in manic loops and twists. Dip, roll, twist, bank... he feels the thought just before the action, and he’s convinced he could fly anything Poe can. Maybe not as well, but he could do it. 

“It’s like the Force,” Ben whispers, watching the beautiful shimmer of nearby nebulae. Poe’s taken ‘them’ out for a joy ride.

It’s what he does when he’s processing something. Anger, frustration, confusion, a big decision... it’s how he fills his mind with kinaesthetic presence. With his conscious mind full, Poe always seems to fix whatever it was that was troubling him. 

Ben is jealous. He doesn’t have the same discipline, and it’s... frustrating. When he has problems, he tries to focus by levitating things, or by doing lightsaber forms, but he normally ends up too caught in the problem and fluffs up whatever he’s doing. It’s a training blade, or he’d likely have cut parts of him off by now. 

He just... can’t let _go_. Not like this... free to the whims of the universe, away from his unruly mind. The closest he can get to it is via Poe. He’s sure sometimes Poe goes flying just because _he_ feels upset. 

“How so, buddy?”

Ben is never sure if he likes being called that or not. It’s both comfortingly familiar, but also somewhat... like he’s being pushed into the ‘friend’ region of speech. Like they aren’t profoundly connected, all the way to their cores. 

“It’s... okay, it sounds silly, but it’s being connected to something outside of yourself. You... seem to know how your ship... feels? And you control it with your thoughts... like your pressing of buttons is how I press things with the Force... I dunno. It’s dumb.”

“It isn’t dumb. I like hearing how you think the Force feels. I don’t get to feel it, except through you.”

“You do feel it, you just... can’t control it. The Force is in everything alive, it’s... it’s...”

“...like the noise you don’t notice until it’s gone?”

“Sort of. It’s that. And your heartbeat. And the – the – when you feel someone is about to enter the room, or you know that someone is sad, but you don’t know why. It’s... how you feel when you see a cute Loth cat, or... music...”

“You know, the way you talk... I’m jealous I don’t get to feel it like you do.”

Hmm. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I get to talk to a _Jedi_. How cool is that?”

“I’m only a Jedi in _training_.”

“Yeah, but you’re _gonna_ be one. And you’re like – the son of the most amazing General ever, and—”

Ben feels something like agony. It’s always the same, isn’t it? People think of him like... like he’s just who he is related to. It’s never ‘Ben is great’, it’s always ‘Ben is Leia’s son, and Han’s, and Luke’s nephew’...

“Bud?”

“It’s nothing.”

He feels Poe falter behind the controls. “I’m messing your flight up.”

“Ben, it’s important. What did I say wrong?”

“I’ll leave you to fly in peace.” He breaks the connection, and pushes the heel of his palm into his mouth. His teeth sink into the flesh and he tries not to scream.

***

Poe doesn’t know how he keeps putting his foot in it, but he does. He just... magically, somehow, is always doing it. 

Surely you’re supposed to _get along_ with your bondsmate? Not forever be grating on their nerves.

Half the time he feels like their connection is something of an imposition. Often, he worries Ben had thought he’d be connected to someone – you know – _better_. Someone with... skills.

The _Force_.

And then he gets angry himself. Angry because his mom was a _hero_. A real hero. She didn’t have the Force, and she didn’t have any reason other than goodness to fight for the Rebellion, and **die** for the Rebellion, and then Ben goes and makes him feel like she didn’t mean enough?

Yeah.

Without saying a word, his bondsmate makes him envious and angry and resentful and... unappreciative and defensive over his dead mother in one go. 

Sometimes he thinks they really aren’t meant to be.

The ship whines in protest at his harsh treatment of her, but Poe _wants_ her to suffer. Wants to push her to the edges of her ability. **Wants** her, almost, to... _break_. He _is_ worthy, damnit. Being a pilot – it means something. ‘Despite’ his lack of Force.

(And yeah, there’s some deep-rooted jealousy over Luke. He ‘used the Force’ and brought down a Death Star. A Jedi **and** a pilot. Great.)

But he is worthy. He’s a pilot _despite_ his lack of Force abilities. Everything he does must therefore mean _more_ , and...

Why is he jealous, anyway? Why does he have to be the best at everything? It’s a team thing. Team. You don’t win a war on your own, or so his mom used to tell him. 

It’s just hard, sometimes, when you feel you’re the supporting character in your own life story.

“Ben...” he calls, when he’s got the ship flying true again, gunning the engines hard forward.

“I’m busy.”

“I know. But I... kinda need you.” He feels like a shit for asking, but he _does_ need him.

“...what?”

“I’m sorry. About before.”

“It was nothing.”

“No. I’m sorry. It’s hard... to know... you get things I don’t. And it’s not fair of me to make you feel guilty for having them.”

“Why not?”

“Because you didn’t pick to have them, you just... pick what you do with them. Look, buddy—”

“ _Please_ don’t call me that, it makes me feel like your droid.”

“...sorry. Uh. Ben? Ben... I’m sorry. I can’t say I won’t feel jealous, but... could you maybe forgive me for wanting to be as cool as you?”

There’s a pause. A long pause. “It isn’t all ‘cool’.”

“Yeah. We always see the positive for someone else, don’t we?”

“I guess.”

“So... we okay?”

“We weren’t ever _not_.”

Except they were. Poe wishes he could shake the feeling that everything is going wrong. It’s such a bad feeling, and he hopes – oh he hopes – it’s just his imagination. 


End file.
